How’s Tricks

I write poetry because I want to,
not because I have to.
I could let my internal organs
blow up in my peritoneum cavity,
spew out my belly button
like an overly excited fire hydrant.
Sometimes, they come like a shiny, wet baby,
with a gestation minute from yahoo to lookout!
Other times, the teasing tarts play hard to get,
show a little cleavage here, a slapped face there.
Whether fast or slow, they all arrive,
take in some air, run from PC to printer,
put on a white paper suit,
catch the red-eye-Postal-shuttle
looking for a good-time, publication date.